


In the End

by TheAutotheist



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAutotheist/pseuds/TheAutotheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was said that the words that appear on your forearm are the last sentence your soulmate ever says to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

**Author's Note:**

> As a heads up, I wrote this before episode 9 aired, so it very much does not jive with that.

Len never put much stock in the whole “soulmates” thing. Sure, he had words on the inside of his left forearm.  _ Everyone _ had words (or sometimes a single word) on the insides of their left forearms. He’d never met or heard of a person who didn’t. They didn’t always come in at the same time, but always by puberty, everyone would have something. 

He remembered tracing the simple black block letters when they suddenly appeared on his skin at the age of ten. He’d hidden his arm from his father so he couldn’t see the words. But that wasn’t that unusual. By that point, he was already used to wearing long sleeves to cover up the bruises and scars. So his father probably never even noticed. Suited him just fine. Those words were private and meant only for him.

_ Only one of us is walking out of here alive. _

It was said that the words that appear on your forearm are the last sentence your soulmate ever says to you. This didn’t necessarily mean you would die, or they would die, after they were said. There were plenty of stories about soulmates who separated for one reason or another and didn’t see each other for years before one of them would die. Though, there were rumors that the closer and more connected the soulmates, the more likely it was for them to die shortly after uttering their last words to each other.

But as stated before, Len didn’t put much stock in any of that crap. Career criminals, he came to discover once he really struck out on his own, tended to wear some kind of cuff or bandage to hide their words. Most did not want to expose their souls, after all. So Len’s long-sleeved shirts and thick jackets were not out of place. 

Even in juvie, everyone kept their arms covered. And the guards allowed it. Because if you didn’t, and someone who wanted to make your life hell found out what your words were, you’d be confronted with them everywhere. In fact, that was how he’d met Mick. Some bigger and older kids had pinned him down and we're trying to get the fabric and elastic cuff they were allowed to wear over their words off his arm. He’d made the mistake of trying to fight back, and was about to get a shiv in the gut for it. That’s when Mick had stepped in and dragged his attackers off him.

When Len asked him about it later, he’d simply said, “It’s your own business what’s scribbled on your arm. No one’s got a right to see that if you don’t want them to.”

Len had appreciated that more than the actual act of saving him. His words were so specific. He didn’t know what situation he would be in when they were finally spoken, but it obviously wasn’t going to be good. And he had certainly thought up several scenarios. That was just how his mind worked. But he wasn’t willing to share that with anyone else.

Alternately, Mick had no problem with people seeing the words on the inside of his arm. Len hadn’t noticed them right away, but once he stopped to talk to him, he caught the two simple words. The lettering was very similar to what Len had on his own arm. Some people had fancy scripts, or huge, bold block letters. But no, theirs were thin lines, as if someone had taken a pen to their skin. He couldn’t help tilt his head to read the words once he caught sight of them.

_ You’re right. _

Mick watched him look at his arm, but he didn’t comment on it, not then. So Len hadn’t commented on it either. It was such an innocuous phrase that it could apply to any situation. Every now and then, someone would sneer something at Mick about how the only time he’d be right about something would be when he was about to die. This was never a good decision, because even at sixteen, Mick was huge. He only needed one hand to knock most people down and make them immediately regret what they’d said. 

Strangely enough, it was an accident when Mick finally saw what Len’s words were. He’d forgotten to put his cuff on his arm that day and they’d just come back from a heist. He’d ripped off his jacket in a hurry to see to a stupid injury he’d received while momentarily not paying attention. He had pushed up his sleeves so he could go to work on the flesh wound on his side, and it was only Mick’s quiet “Huh” that made him realize his arm was bare.

He glanced down to see his inner arm was turned towards Mick, with his words clearly visible. He looked up again to meet Mick’s eyes. “So now you know,” he said to try to stem whatever thing Mick would say.

But he hadn’t expected Mick to say, “I can see why you keep that covered. It won’t be good, when that happens.”

Len had only mumbled in agreement. He didn’t know how exactly to talk about what he expected to happen, or what could lead up to those words being spoken to him. Some people went out of their way to never say the words on their soulmate’s arm, only to somehow walk themselves into a self-fulfilling prophesy. And then there were the bastards who had something like “I love you” on their arms, and so would never say that to their partners.

It was a couple months after that that Len and Mick had finally started sleeping together, though the sexual tension between them had been palpable for years. Even Lisa had commented on it more than once. She, of course, knew what was on his arm. And all she’d said on that was, “Don’t give him reason to kill you, then,” as if it was accepted knowledge that Mick was Len’s soulmate. 

Maybe he was. Who else was it going to be?

When that heist went wrong, and that burning building had started to come down around them, he’d been so afraid Mick would turn to him and say, “Only one of us is walking out of here alive.” But no, Mick was so far gone by that point. Too engrossed in the flames to care they were burning him alive.

Len almost yelled a “You’re right!” at him out of spite, but didn’t. It wasn’t the right time. So he left. He left Mick behind even though he wasn’t dead. He left Mick to his own means and set out on some heists on his own, even though they were far from satisfying without Mick’s familiar presence at his side.

He liked to tell himself that the Streak—or Flash, as he was later called—was a big enough challenge to warrant them working together again, but really, he was looking for any excuse to seek Mick out again. The heat gun was a nice peace offering, though. And their lives only got crazier from there.

Somehow, they found themselves on the Waverider with Rip Hunter’s crew of heroes. And wasn’t that a change of pace? They went from working with criminals who played everything close to the chest, to goody-goody heroes who didn’t care if anyone saw their words.

Palmer always wore T-shirts, and never tried to hide his words at all. Len caught sight of them once. They were simply,  _ Ray help me _ .

He overheard Palmer telling Stein it didn’t matter who saw them, because he’d already heard the words spoken, when his fiancee was killed in Star City a couple years back.

The two Hawks had equally violent-sounding last words. Carter was certain his would come from Kendra, and that Kendra’s would come from him, and it would be Vandal Savage who would do them in. They just didn’t expect it to happen so soon after their little band had formed.

After Kendra had recovered and they’d finally laid to rest her soulmate and her past incarnation’s son, Len stumbled upon her in what he’d thought was an empty room, with tears streaming down her face and her lips pressed to her forearm. The room was dark, but he knew her words were in that spot on her arm. He left quietly without her noticing. When he next saw Mick, he pressed him up against a wall and kissed him hard.

Mick was only slightly surprised. But he was always eager. So he practically carried Len back to the room of theirs that was closest (turned out to be Mick’s) and dropped him onto the bed none too lightly.

After, Len lay on his side and traced the black letters on his arm. Mick watched him do it and then brought the arm up to his face so he could gently trace his lips along the words.

“When you say that to me,” Len all but growled, in a voice nothing like his normal carefree drawl, “you better fucking mean it.”

“You know I will. If it comes down to whatever this conversation is, I’ll light the world on fire for you.”

Len didn’t say it might actually be that he’d light the world on fire  _ because _ of him. He just looked down at the simple words on Mick’s arm, which he now clearly recognized as a response the words on his own arm.

As for the rest of the team, it turned out Rip’s words were an innocuous  _ Come back soon _ . Impossible to tell when a phrase like that would be the last. And clearly the man was trying to fight against what his own soul mark told him was the end. Len had never heard of anyone’s words not matching the last thing their soulmate said to them, only incorrectly identified soulmates.

Jax and Stein always wore long sleeves, but Len had a feeling they knew what each other's words were. Something about being able to share thoughts and emotions.

And then there was Sara. Now there was a specimen. Mick liked her because she was all fire. Len liked her because she was a cold assassin. And she was simply stunning in her white leather, taking down big, burly men in a bar fight or going toe-to-toe with Savage’s henchmen. She usually wore matching leather guards on her arms, which was as much about combat as a means to cover her words. So the first time Len saw her without them, he didn’t immediately notice.

He frowned, and then realization came crashing down. Sara had  _ no words _ . Not much shocked him these days, but he found himself openly staring, which of course made Sara notice. She tugged her 3/4 sleeve further down her arm and quickly left the room.

He didn’t bring it up until they were freezing to death in the engine room, and huddled together for warmth. Since he had a sweater on under his jacket, he stripped off the jacket to wrap around Sara. Also, he could withstand the cold better. As he did, his sleeve rode up before he had the chance to yank it back down.

“Only one of us is walking out of here alive…” Sara mumbled as she looked at his arm.

Len started violently. Even though he logically knew Sara wasn’t his soulmate, hearing those last words out loud made his heart stop.

She glanced at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” he bit out as he wrapped his arms tightly around his body.

Sara leaned into him and held the edges of his jacket around her body. “It’s Mick, isn’t it?”

Len glanced at her. It wasn’t like he and Mick were exactly hiding their relationship, but they weren’t very public about it either. So that said something about her observation skills.

Rather than confirm her suspicions, he said, “Who can say until it happens?”

The corner of Sara’s mouth tilted up in the semblance of a smile. “You say that, but I know you’re sure.” She glanced at Len. “Are you worried about it? What’s gonna cause him to say that?”

“No,” Len lied.

“Mm,” Sara hummed, perhaps in agreement with his facade, perhaps seeing through the lie. After a moment of silence, she said, “I did have them before, you know.”

She didn’t push up her sleeve to reveal the lack of words on her arm. Len had already seen, and it was too cold for that. “What happened?” he asked.

“They were said. Didn’t even realize it at the time. And then I died. Shot through the chest with arrows.” She rubbed at her chest as if she could feel a phantom pain. “When they brought me back, the words were gone. Turned out I came back without a soul, and they had to call this guy to restore it. But even when I got my soul back, I didn’t get any new words.” She looked off towards the wall. “Maybe it means I’ll never see her again…”

Len didn’t really know what to say to that. He liked to think the whole soulmates and words thing wasn’t something he particularly cared about. But he didn’t know what his identity would be without his own words.

“And maybe we’ll die here and it won’t matter,” she said in too cheery of a tone of voice.

“We won’t die here. As stated, Mick hasn’t said these words to me.” He nodded down towards his arm.

“Well, I can always say them again, if you want.” She smirked as she said it.

“No offense, Sara,” he drawled, “but you are not my soulmate.”

Some people said they could tell, or otherwise just  _ knew _ when their soulmate was about to say their words. Len thought that was all bullshit. It wasn’t about having some psychic feeling. It was about being able to read the signs. He’d been working with Mick for thirty years. He could read the fucking signs.

And the signs showed him Mick going off the rails. If he was honest with himself, it had been going on for a while, not just since Star City 2046. There was a push and pull between them since they landed on this team. Len tried to change his past so his father hadn’t gone to jail for five years. He had to leave Mick behind on a mission, which got him thrown into a Russian gulag. Mick wanted to save the god damned eagle scout because he’d taken a beating for him (and maybe saved Len’s life when he was at gunpoint). Mick wanted 2046, a criminal’s “paradise,” where there was nothing left of worth to steal, and no one to outwit. So Len knocked him out and didn’t give him the choice of staying. 

And all of it culminated in the ultimatum he gave Len: join him, join the pirates, go back to Central City 2016,  _ kill the team _ ; or take the heroes’ side, fight against Mick, take him down. A year ago, there would have been no question which side Len would take. A year ago, Mick would have never made Len choose to fight against him.

He knew that at some point, Mick would stop being content to only burn things on a job, in the process of collecting a score. At some point, he would just want to watch the world burn, the same world Len wanted preserved so he could continue to live and steal in it. And maybe there was a sentimental part of him that hoped he would be enough for Mick, at least for a while. He did know that at some point, though, he would no longer be. And really, thirty years wasn’t a bad run. But he did wish they had more time.

What he’d forgotten (or chosen to ignore) was that the words on Mick’s arm were clearly a reaction to the words on Len’s arm. Which meant, when it came down to it, it was never going to be Len’s choice. 

Every time Len had agreed with Mick on something, he’d always pointedly said, “You are right” or “You were right.” So maybe he did fall into those same stupid tropes as the people who refused to say “I love you” because it was written on their soulmate’s arm.

But when Mick said, “I told you that would be the last time you hit me,” after Len dragged him off the ship, away from the others, he still found himself saying “You were right” even though he knew this was the end. He just couldn’t bring himself to make that final decision.

But Mick could.

He said his piece. He called Len out for what he was doing, even though Len had been watching him fall apart. It was that burning building all over again. But this time it was final.

“You think you’re some kind of hero. But deep down you’re still the same punk kid I saved in juvie. You haven’t got the guts. You want to kill me? Kill me,” Mick growled. He paused, as he let his little speech sink it. And then he straightened up and stared Len directly in the eye. Without putting on any grandeur, or emphasizing his speech in any way, he said simply, “Only one of us is walking out of here alive.”

Len hadn’t realized how hard he was breathing. He had attributed it to the fight, and the injuries, and having to drag Mick’s heavy ass away from the ship. But it wasn’t just that. It was tension. It was the waiting. He could say something else. He could kick and scream and threaten Mick, and do everything in his power to make him say  _ anything _ except the words he had just uttered. 

Instead he sighed and let out a long breath of resignation. His shoulders slumped slightly, but he didn’t lower the gun at all. In the end, he let Mick make the choice. And while he could have replied with anything, what he said, in a sad, tired voice, was “You’re right.”

And then he shot the cold gun.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I wrote this before episode 9 aired, I never actually thought Mick was dead. But after reading all those soulmate fics from Coldwave week, I wanted to take a stab at it. But I've always thought soulmate AUs invoke the same kind of laziness as established relationship fics. IE: they don't require relationship development. So I wanted to turn the whole soulmate thing on its head. And so I chose last words, instead of first words. Unfortunately, there are very few shippings and circumstances that can use this AU. So while I never thought Mick was dead, I wanted to write this as if Len had killed him. And damn did I create a depressing AU.


End file.
